Epic Lies (Epic Fail Book 2)

by Trudy Stiles

  “I’ll have a lemon drop, please,” I interrupt her. “Make it two.”

  Mia looks at me, “How did you know that I wanted a lemon drop?”

  “Because that’s what you always have.”

  She smiles and shrugs.

  “I’ll be right back with your drinks. Take a look at our specials while I’m gone, and let me know if you want any appetizers. I personally recommend the Bavarian pretzels with spicy mustard.” She walks away, and my mouth is watering thinking of her suggestion.

  “I’m not eating carbs tonight. At. All,” Mia declares and shifts again in her seat.

  “Really? Since when?”

  “Since I put these jeans on and had to lie on my bed to pull up the zipper.”

  I laugh. “Stop it. You’re being ridiculous.”

  “Says the girl who wears her jeans for weeks before washing them to ensure you never have this problem.”

  Zing!

  “I don’t wait two weeks,” I lie. “And stop stalking my laundry piles.”

  I open the menu, feeling a little self-conscious. Maybe I should order a salad. Nah.

  The buffalo chicken sandwich is screaming at me from the menu. That’s definitely what I’m getting.

  The sound of drums suddenly fills the room, causing Mia and I to turn to look at the stage. One of the roadies is banging on them like he’s the only person in the room. “Isn’t it a little early for the band to be starting?”

  “Who knows,” Mia says and looks toward the bar again.

  The hostess appears again and pulls two tables together directly across from us, setting it for a larger group.

  Then our waitress places two large lemon drop martinis in front of us, along with the Bavarian pretzels. “These are on me. They’re seriously my favorite, so please enjoy them.”

  Mia scoffs at the heaping pile of carbs on the table between us, so I pull it closer to me. “Thank you. I’m sure they’re great,” I say to the waitress as I pull apart one of the pretzels and dip it into the spicy mustard.

  “Are you ready to order?” she asks.

  “I’ll have the avocado and chicken salad. Please hold the cheese and croutons. Instead of the creamy dressing, I’ll just take some lime, vinegar, and a little bit of olive oil.” Mia’s order is extremely high-maintenance and won’t absorb an ounce of the alcohol that I know she’s about to consume.

  The waitress nods politely and turns to me. “And for you?”

  “The buffalo chicken sandwich,” I say with a mouthful of salty, amazing pretzel. The spicy mustard burns the inside of my nose, making my eyes water. But it’s so good.

  “Fries?” she asks me, and I nod vigorously. I mean, duh.

  Mia shifts in her seat. “Who’s the bartender tonight?” she asks, trying to be nonchalant.

  “Oh. I’m not sure who’s on tonight. The shift change happens at eight. Maybe it’s Trent. But it could be Ashley. Not sure.” She walks away with our order.

  I take another bite of the heavenly pretzel and chase it with a sip from the martini. Delightful.

  “What if he’s not working?” she asks, almost frantic.

  I swallow harshly. “Simmer down. Aren’t we here to have fun?” I ask.

  She huffs and reaches for a pretzel, tearing it into small pieces on the plate in front of her. “I’m just going to have a small bite.”

  A group of guys begins to fill the large table next to us, and the roadies are the first to sit down. Mia’s eyes widen, and she practically chokes on the mouthful of pretzel.

  “He should be here in about five minutes, so don’t lose your shit, G.” One of the guys says, attempting to keep the brooding guy calm.

  “He better fucking get here. We have to go through our set list and make sure he has his shit together. And based on his track record this past week, I don’t have confidence he’ll get here on time.”

  “Stop being so hard on him. What happened last Friday wasn’t his fault, and you know it.”

  More grumbling from the brooding dude called ‘G.’

  Mia’s eyes widen, “It’s the band,” she whispers too loudly, and their heads turn toward us. Mia begins to choke.

  “Are you okay?” the guy next to ‘G’ asks.

  Another person shows up, but I’m focused on my best friend, whose face is turning shades of pink, then red, then purple. She coughs and launches a partially chewed piece of pretzel across the table, bouncing off my chest. Color returns to her face.

  “I’m fine,” she answers, eyes wide. “Oh. My. God.”

  “Are you okay?” I ask her, and she nods vigorously.

  She stammers. “You’re–you’re–Epic Fail!” She looks crazy right now. Epic Fail? Not a chance…

  I turn to the group at the table next to us as I take a sip from my martini. Their smiles are huge, and recognition sets in as one of them slides next to Mia across from me.

  “Hey, lifesaver.” Words float from his lips like magic, his voice imprinted in my brain. My heart begins to race, and I can’t believe who is sitting across from me. Everything suddenly comes together, and I realize who he is and why he seemed so familiar to me last week.

  Holy.

  Fucking.

  Shit.

  “Hey,” I say, barely audible.

  His eyes lock on mine and stay there. I’m afraid to look away. My left foot starts tapping wildly on the floor, starting a chain reaction up my leg, and I have to press my hand into my thigh to calm myself down. It’s Dax.

  “Did you make it home okay after dropping me off last week?” he asks, his eyes bright and his smile still soft and welcoming.

  “I had to take back roads, you know, because of the accident.” Why am I so nervous?

  Mia looks from me to Dax and back to me again. “I told you!” she yells. “I knew it!” She’s so proud of herself, yet completely star struck that Dax Anderson from Epic Fail is sitting next to her. “I’m Mia, her phone-a-friend. So nice to meet you. Now, please excuse me, I have to pee,” she exclaims, and Dax slides out of the seat. We watch Mia as she runs through the bar toward the restrooms.

  He sits back down, and we both reach for the last pretzel on the plate in front of me. Our fingers brush against each other, and we pull the pretzel apart while our eyes remain locked together. “Do you mind?” he asks, his voice strong and deep. “I haven’t had a thing to eat all day.” I drop the half of the pretzel that I pulled and nod.

  “It’s all yours. Please take it.” And take me, too.

  “Thanks,” he says and chews the pretzel.

  I look around to see if Mia is finished in the bathroom and notice her leaning on the bar, talking to whom I can only assume is Starbucks Guy.

  Dax clears his throat, and I turn my head to look at him again. He’s staring at me. Through me. Into me.

  “What are you doing here?” he asks in disbelief.

  “What do you mean?” I ask, mildly defensive, but excited he wants to know more.

  “How did you know I was here?”

  “I didn’t.”

  “Oh.” His eyes drop but quickly find mine again.

  “Mia. She knows the–I mean–she kind of knows the bartender. So that’s why we’re here.” I tense up and feel a little dizzy. “You didn’t think–you don’t think I’m stalking you. Do you?”

  Oh. My. God.

  “I didn’t know who you were until now.” I would swear on my first-born child if I could. I really didn’t know.

  My conversation with Mia last week replays in my head, and I realize she knew who was in my car. Why didn’t she say anything?

  I twist toward the bar and see her flirting, hard. I believe her intentions were mixed for tonight. She was definitely coming to see Starbucks Guy, but did she know about Epic Fail? She couldn’t have–she was just as surprised as I was. Right?

  Dax chuckles and shakes his head. “No, I don’t think you’re stalking me.” His smile captures me.

  “How are you?” I ask. I’ve been thinking
about him non-stop since last week. The accident that could have killed him keeps replaying in my mind. I’ve cringed every single time I’ve heard emergency sirens this past week, trying not to picture his demise underneath that bridge.

  He inhales deeply and looks around the room. His bandmates seem to be preoccupied with the vast menu, everyone gesturing and pointing.

  “I’m–okay,” he says, furrowing his beautiful eyebrows. “But something has been bothering me all week,” he says, capturing my gaze.

  “What?” I say, breathless.

  “How do I know you?”

  Dax

  Past

  Age 17

  SILENCE FILLS THE ROOM, engulfing me. Strangling me. Suffocating me.

  “Dax, honey, are you okay?” Lara’s mother, Mrs. Tierney, asks quietly from behind me. We’re the only people in here now.

  “No,” I choke. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Tierney, but I’m not okay. How could I be okay?” I’m fighting back tears, and I’m losing.

  She walks over to me and places her hand softly on my shoulder. Her touch is cold, yet burns at the same time. “Do you want to talk?”

  I swallow the ball of spit lodged in the back of my throat. “What’s there to talk about?” She can’t be serious.

  “You must have questions.”

  You have got to fucking be kidding me.

  I hold back the rage pulsing through my veins, and I turn to look into the eyes of my girlfriend’s mother.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” I need to know. “Why did you hide this from me for months?”

  She sinks onto the bed next to her daughter. My girlfriend.

  Mrs. Tierney grabs my hand at the same time she holds Lara’s. The difference is mine is warm and pulsing with life. Lara’s is limp, cold, and dying.

  “It wasn’t easy, Dax. The past few months have been so incredibly difficult for us. For our family. For Lara.”

  I rip my hand from her grasp and move away from her, closer to Lara’s shoulders. I’m hoping she can hear everything that her mother and I are talking about. She has to know how much her decision has affected us. Affected me.

  “Why did you let her do this?” I scream. “Why? You’re her parents. You’re supposed to protect her and keep her safe. Help give her strength so she can thrive. So she can fucking live!” I’m pacing now, and Mrs. Tierney has tears streaming down her face. She knows I’m right. She must know.

  She inhales deeply and lets go of Lara’s hand, placing it gingerly on her chest, as if she’s already in her coffin.

  “You don’t understand how bad it is. How bad it was going to get for her.”

  “No, I don’t understand. Because NOBODY FUCKING TOLD ME!”

  She flinches, and I watch Lara for a response, but there isn’t one. She’s been comatose since yesterday.

  The day that I found out that her body was riddled with cancer, and she was going to die. Everything happened so suddenly. Too suddenly.

  “None of this has been easy. We’ve been struggling with her decision every single day. But you must know, this was her decision, and we honored it. We love her and wanted to give her the right to choose how far she took her treatments.”

  “She’s sixteen years old. How can you let her decide for herself?” I ask in disbelief. They should have been forcing chemotherapy into her veins. Prolonging her life. Saving her life.

  “Someday, you’ll understand. I promise. But for now, you’ll have to trust that Lara’s father and I have done everything we can to keep our daughter alive. Our only child. We’ve fought alongside her through some of the toughest battles she’s ever had to fight. We’ve seen how bad it gets. We fought her tooth and nail to allow the doctors to pump her full of poison to keep her alive for a few more months. But that’s all we would have had. We wouldn’t have had the lifetime that we hoped for…dreamed of. Our baby girl wasn’t going to last another six months with chemotherapy. So, we let her decide to stop treatment. To say she’s had enough.”

  Her voice is strangely calm now. At peace.

  Lara’s chest moves up and down mechanically. She’s on a ventilator that’s keeping her alive. Allowing air to flow through her lungs, preventing her organs from completely shutting down.

  “She barely fought!”

  “That’s not true, Daxton. She’s been fighting since she was eight years old. She’s gone through this before and had to endure over two years of chemotherapy and bone marrow transplants. Her situation was dire back then, and we’ve been lucky to have her with us for the past eight years. In those eight years, she’s lived a full life. Those eight years were a gift. She’s almost at peace.”

  Rage is about to spill out, and I do everything to restrain myself. How could Lara be at peace? She’s fighting to breathe, requiring artificial support to keep her alive. This isn’t peace; this is hell on Earth.

  “She’s suffering,” I sputter. I’m about to lose it.

  “She’s not suffering at all.” She nods toward the various bags of fluid hanging above my girlfriend, intravenously pumping into her body. “She’s comfortable. I promise you, she’s not in pain at all.”

  Mr. Tierney walks into the room. He looks angry and protective. “Is everything alright?”

  “Yes, Dear.” Mrs. Tierney nods and dismisses her husband. His gaze lingers on his daughter, and he lowers his eyes, exiting the room.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” I beg her, needing answers.

  “It wasn’t my place to,” she states simply.

  Lara’s frail, pale body looks so still. I want to shake her awake. Scream in her face and ask why. Why did she lie to me?

  “Nobody thought it was their place to tell me Lara was dying? Seriously? I’ve been asking her for months what’s wrong. And nobody could tell me?” I’m sobbing now, and I’m not ashamed. This family needs to know how much I’m hurting. How much I’m losing. None of this is fair.

  “Someday, you’ll understand.”

  “Stop saying that! How can you possibly think that I could ever understand this?” I stand up and pace next to Lara’s bed.

  “You need to see things from her perspective. It’s the only way.” Her mother’s voice begins to break, and I know she’s struggling with this as much as I am.

  I kneel next to Lara and remove her cold hand from her chest. “Lara, you need to wake up and tell me what you want. I need to hear it from you.” I glance up at her mother, and her face is buried in her hands, sobs pouring out. “Lara, please. I need you to tell me that you don’t want to fight. That you can’t fight. I won’t believe anyone but you.”

  Lara’s chest moves up and down in unison with the sounds coming from the ventilator. No other movement. Can she even hear me?

  “She can hear you. Tell her what you need her to hear before she leaves us,” her mother cries as if reading my mind. “Please don’t ask her for anything she can’t give you. This isn’t about you, Daxton. Please let her go, on her terms.”

  I exhale and shake my head. “This all happened so fast.”

  “She’s been protecting you from the truth, Daxton. This has been going on for months.”

  I’ve been noticing how frail Lara has been the past few months, but I shrugged it off. I couldn’t imagine it would be something serious. School has been intense, especially for her. She’s been studying for SATs and AP classes, trying to get ready for the next school year. She always excelled in school and fought hard to stay at the top of her class. I had no idea that she had been fighting something else entirely.

  I squeeze Lara’s hands, hoping for a response. Praying for a response from her. Open your eyes.

  “She loved you,” Mrs. Tierney says softly.

  “I know,” I say.

  “Please let her go. Please tell her it’s okay.”

  “But she’s been lying to me. You’ve all been lying to me,” I retort. “None of this is okay.”

  Mrs. Tierney’s shoulders begin to shake, and her face is once again in her hands. “This is
n’t easy for any of us. Please know that we’ve done everything we can.”

  She turns and walks into the hallway, leaving me alone with my girlfriend.

  I can’t keep watching her chest move up and down without words coming from her lips. Without her eyes open and happy to see me. None of this feels real, yet it’s tearing me from the inside out. I want to absorb her pain and suffering. I want to burn away her cancer. I want her to sit up, hop out of her hospital bed, and jump into my arms.

  “Lara, can you hear me?” My face is inches from hers. My breath hovers over her cold, dry lips. My voice shakes. “Please tell me you can hear me.”

  I place my lips close to her ears.

  “I’m not supposed to love someone this much. I’m young. We’re young. We both have our lives ahead of us. But I can’t help but want to take all of your pain and suffering away from you so we have a chance to find out what it’s like to be in love and grow old together. You shouldn’t have to suffer like this.” I’m rambling, desperate to fill her brain with trigger words that might jolt her from this near-death sleep. Aside from grabbing her by the shoulders and shaking her, I don’t know what other options I have.

  She remains comatose. Unable to move. I’m unsure if she can really even hear me.

  But I can’t let it end like this.

  “Listen to me, dammit.” I pause to try to restrain my anger. I have to keep telling myself that this isn’t her fault. Her cancer has control, and she’s letting it take her, forever.

  I place my hand over her coarse, dry hair. It feels brittle, about to break apart under my soft touch. “I love you, Lara. I love you so much.”

  I close my eyes and see her healthy smile. I see us playing Uno at my kitchen table, laughing and flirting. I see her riding her bike through the park, racing me back to my house. I see her lying in my bed, her skin glowing after making love. I see months fly by, months when I had no idea she was dying. Time I should have cherished her more. Loved her more.

  “Please don’t leave me,” I whisper into her ear. My heart sinks with each second that she doesn’t respond to my touch. My voice.

  And I know she’s already gone.